09:37:23 am on
Monday 17 Jun 2024

Post-Mom Day
Jennifer Flaten

Ah, Mother’s Day, what wonderful, fabulous day is it. Apples get a week. Mothers, fathers and teachers get a day, each.

Mother's Day is the one day when spouses and children crammed with 365 days of appreciation. Don’t get me wrong I am all for Mother’s Day. In fact, I would like to start a petition to make it Mother’s Week or possibly decade. 

Even better, how about having a Mother’s Day wild card? Don’t feel like doing laundry that day? Whip out your Mother’s Day wild card and go have a mojito on the patio while someone else sorts the lights from the darks. A girl can dream can’t she?

Some people give their moms candy, flowers or jewelry for Mother’s Day. In our house, I ask for only one thing on Mother’s Day. Surprise, it isn’t cupcakes.

Okay, I ask for one thing, but I do get a “surprise” gift also this year my surprise was slippers. We have a tacit agreement that the kids get exactly what I asked for, and I pretend I didn’t take the kids to the store and show them the exact make, model and size of my “surprise” gift.

With twins and a spare, there is always a fight over something. Did you know it is possible to fight who gets to brush their teeth first? I didn't either, until I had kids.

I am an only child, so the whole concept of having to call “shotgun” or having to save my favorite seat on the sofa is foreign. My childhood was very quiet, so the loudness, that is the arguing, of my three kids can overwhelm me at times.

So for Mother’s Day I ask for one thing and one thing only on Mother’s Day, no fighting or at least fighting using whispers. Do you think whisper fights are odd? You should go on a car trip with us, and then you can see the kids engage in pantomime fighting. There is nothing like a good mime fight to distract the driver.

Screw the candy; give me a day without pinching, poking or screaming. I realize it sounds like I am living 50 Shades of Gray, but, really, I have 50 shades of “he’s looking at me funny”. 

I want one day where I don’t have to break out the riot gear and rubber bullets. This year the children stood before with angelic expression and promised, crossed their heart and hoped to die, that they would go the whole day without fighting.

Five minutes later, they were engaged in mortal combat over who could behave best. I considered spraying them with the hose and then realized it’s the thought that counts.

Besides, they got me cake, actually three little miniature cakes. What‘s better than one cake? Three cakes are better, of course.

Why did I get three cakes? There were three cakes because last year they fought over how to decorate my one cake. They ended up covered in frosting and sprinkles.

This year, we got three cakes and since they decorated the cake themselves, it was sprinkles with a little cake underneath. All problems forgiven when there is cake. I took my cake and a book, went to sit in the sun, and pretended I didn’t hear the cries of, “He stole me spot."

Jennifer Flaten lives where the local delicacy is fried cheese, Wisconsin. She writes about family life, its amusing or not so amusing moments. "At least it's not another article on global warming," she says. Jennifer bakes a mean banana bread and admits an unusual attraction to balloon animals and cup cakes. Busy preparing for the zombie apocalypse, she stills finds time to write "As I See It," her witty, too often true column. "My urge to write," says Jennifer, "is driven by my love of cupcakes, with sprinkles on top. Who wouldn't write for cupcakes, with sprinkles," she wonders.

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